CHAPPELL HILL RANCH WEEKEND


We spent the Memorial Day weekend in Chappell Hill, a small rural community about 70 miles from Houston.  We almost didn’t make it due to heavy rains and flooding in the days prior to our arrival — the area received nearly 18 inches of rain in 24 hours, and the Brazos River was overflowing in areas.  Where we were staying wasn’t affected, but our prayers are with others in the area who lost their homes, property, livestock, and in a few cases, their lives.  Just outside of Chappell Hill we passed this completely submerged farmland:

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I cannot get this image of a cow that drowned out of my mind, and seeing it was heartbreaking:

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We rented Rockstar Ranch last fall, and were excited about returning.

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The spacious and comfortable house, guest house, and property make for a great place for “city folks” like us to unwind.

There was a large porch with lots of rockers — perfect for watching the sun rise and set:

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I especially enjoyed the beautiful flora around the property:

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Mariesii variegated lacecap hydrangea

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Trumpet vine

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Rose glorybower

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Knock-out roses

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Commelina erecta (white mouth dayflower or slender dayflower)

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Vitex

And we all got a kick out of the fauna in the area:

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Little green frog on the kitchen window

Up close and personal with the neighbor’s cows:

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Watching you

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Stalker cow

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Does this weed make my butt look big?

Rocking on the porch while watching deer was a favorite activity:

And then there was this little fella that was in the pool — we think it must have washed out of the pond with the heavy rains:

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There were lots of insects too, most of which we weren’t too thrilled about — except for the fireflies.  Yes — fireflies have returned to the Texas hill country!  I’ve been in Texas since 1981 and have never once seen a firefly.  Each time one lit up, someone would squeal with excitement.  Well, maybe not squeal, but at least one of the kids would say “cool.”

Much of the weekend was spent just hanging around the ranch — swimming, cooking, rocking, reading.  But we did venture out to a few local places.  Our first stop was for barbecue lunch at the Chappell Hill Bakery & Deli.

There was the usual assortment of smoked meats, and a wide variety of sides to choose from:

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The barbecue was OK, and none of us liked the barbecue sauce, but I didn’t hear anyone complaining about the sides, including the creamy mac ‘n cheese, the tangy pepper cole slaw, and the loaded mashed potatoes:

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On the retail side of the store, there were shelves full of pickled things, salsas, condiments, jerky, and refrigerated cases of meats, sausages, and cheeses.

But what makes this place worthy of a visit is the bakery.  Treat yourself to some pillowy kolaches, giant pralines loaded with pecans, cookies, cinnamon rolls, breads, and cakes.

 And whatever you do, don’t leave without a pie!

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I don’t know how many different types of pies they bake, but the one that we flipped over was the pecan pie — not too sweet, and brimming with pecans.  With a scoop of vanilla ice cream, it had us all swooning.

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We also had lunch at the Southern Flyer Diner in nearby Brenham.  The restaurant is located at the Brenham Municipal Airport, and is open every day from 11:00 a.m. until 3:00 p.m.

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The diner’s 1950s decor, complete with waitresses in poodle skirts, cherry-red vinyl clad chairs and booths, and a jukebox is cute and kitschy.

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Part of the fun is watching the small planes fly in and out.

As I stood there watching the planes, one landed and parked right in front of the diner.  Two older women got out and went inside the restaurant for lunch.

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As a family that thinks twice about having to drive more than 10 minutes to go out to eat, I was fascinated by the idea that people would actually fly there for lunch.  But according to the owners, pilots are always looking for a reason to fly, and a burger is as good a reason as any.  The burgers are jokingly referred to as $100 Hamburgers — pilots call them that because they burn about that much in gas to fly there for a burger.

The food was classic diner food, all freshly prepared.  The portions were generous and the food was very good.  Highlights of our meal included chili with cornbread (onions, cheese, and jalapeños available):

 Boneless Buffalo wings (all white meat):

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Fajita beef quesadilla:

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And a juicy 1/2 pound burger topped with sautéed mushrooms and swiss cheese.

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There were also root beer floats and milkshakes made with Blue Bell ice cream (this is Brenham, after all, home of Blue Bell Creameries):

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We also took a stroll down Main Street in Chappell Hill.  There’s just a handful of establishments, all with an old-timey feel, and many of which are on the National Register of Historic Places:

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My favorite was the Post Office on Main Street, with its charming garden maintained by the Chappell Hill Garden Club:

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I long ago gave up on my fantasy of owning a ranch.  Being able to rent one as lovely as this is the next best thing to owning one.  I’m already looking forward to our next weekend at the ranch, whenever that may be.

 

 

GOODBYE TO LILO

Last week we said goodbye to Lilo, our sweet shar pei:

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Lilo was just shy of 11 years old, and lived longer than any of our three other shar peis, which was incredible given all of her health problems.  You may have heard that shar peis are prone to a host of health issues, and Lilo had, I believe, all of them, including chronic ear infections, swollen hock syndrome, and entropion.

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Lilo joined our family when she was 10 months old.  We had owned two shar peis — Dexter and Har Gow — who were best friends.  When Har Gow died unexpectedly, we needed a new companion for Dexter on an urgent basis.  We contacted Har Gow’s breeder, and the only dog she had available was Lilo.  She told us that Lilo had been with two other families, but it didn’t work out (including a vague story about an elderly owner that couldn’t care for her).  The breeder assured us that Lilo was a great dog without any problems.  She sent us these photos:

In hindsight, nothing the breeder told us really added up.  As soon as Lilo arrived, we knew she was not as the breeder represented.  She was, for lack of a better word, dull. We subsequently learned that her mother had died during childbirth, which the breeder neglected to mention, which explained a lot.  She had a cherry eye, which the breeder also neglected to mention.  She also forgot to mention that she had tacked Lilo’s eyelids twice, but that it had failed to correct the drooping eyelids (we never really did see Lilo’s eyes).  Lilo was timid, and cowered every time my husband came near her for at least six or seven years, which led us to believe that she had been abused at some point, although the breeder denied it.  She wasn’t cuddly or playful, and fought with Dexter.  After a few months we contacted the breeder about sending her back.  But then, as if Lilo understood our conversations, she suddenly quit fighting with Dexter and settled in, as though she realized staying with us was maybe not so terrible.

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Dexter and Lilo

So if Lilo wasn’t smart or cuddly or playful, what was she?

She was ours.

We all grew on each other, and Lilo became an integral part of our family.  She was a fierce watchdog, with a menacing bark.  She stayed close to us, and was always right there begging for table scraps.  She slept in our room and snored loudly — we used to joke that it was our white noise, kind of like falling asleep to the sound of the ocean.  If you put your face up to her muzzle, she would reward you with wet sloppy kisses.  She loved to lay in the driveway and soak up the sunshine.  She hated thunderstorms and loved marrow bones.  No matter where she was in the house, and no matter how swollen and painful her hocks were, if she heard the treat drawer open, she came running.  She was our Lilo.

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My Facebook followers knew Lilo as “stalker dog,” and I loved to photograph her poking around corners:

Dexter died in 2010, and we now have two duck tolling retrievers — Jasper and Maisy — wiith whom Lilo got along just fine.

We noticed a few weeks ago that Lilo had suddenly lost a lot of weight and was becoming disoriented, and we knew that our time with her was drawing to a close.  We agreed that as long as she didn’t appear to be in pain, we wouldn’t put her down.  And so we provided Lilo with the best hospice care we were capable of, and hoped that she wouldn’t suffer.  I don’t know if that was the right decision, but it was our decision.  It was hard watching her go.  It was like watching a shopkeeper close up for the night — first he hangs the closed sign, then he locks the door, sweeps up, empties the cash register, and finally, he closes the lights.  A few days before she died, Lilo hung up the closed sign and stopped eating and drinking.  Then she became bedridden.  She was not really alert in the day or two prior to her death.  And then, finally, she closed the lights.  My employers, who are decent people, were understanding, and I was able to be with Lilo in those final few days, staying by her, comforting her.

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Jasper kept the vigil too, watching over her.

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In a final act of love and compassion, after Lilo passed away my husband cleaned her up before we took her body to the vet for cremation, bathing and blow-drying her.  He swaddled her in a fluffy clean blanket, and cradled her as we sat in the vet’s lobby waiting for assistance.

She was ours.

Rest in peace, sweet Lilo.  We love you.

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